Another Life- The Edit
by Corinder
Summary: Another life! Now comes in edited flavor! When a girl with issues is offered another chance somewhere else, or drown, she takes the 'other chance' and wakes up dragged into an adventure that she was never supposed to be apart of. Edited version to revive my creative flow and to take care of issues from the previous version. A work in progress.
1. Chapter 1

Words filled my head, words that I didn't understand, and with them came the sense of being touched. Being held. The arms were strong, the body smelt of warmth, water, flowers, embracing me as if I were just a baby. I lay there cradled in their arms. Safe. Secure.

 _ _Are you ready to die in order to be reborn?__

 _I felt the words, rather than heard them, felt them deep in my bones. This was it. This was the knife's edge between life and the great beyond. What was there? Death, yes, but what beyond? The uncertainty was a great chasm of unfathomable depths and endings. Here where I was held, the river pulled and tugged, it pulled me in both directions, yet the arms held me still._

 _The first sense of unease began to worm into the contentment._

 _ _Are you ready to venture in and discover what is unseen by the living?__

The voice seemed to echo in those depths. I __felt__ it. It waited there. It offered a strange comfort in the adventure of the great beyond without expressing those words. I could have been tempted.

 _Or would you be swept back into life- your name forgotten, your deeds given to other names, other people, yet alive?_

There was pain there, that direction, I could feel it. Edging in the background. Waiting for my soul to decide.

Somehow, neither death in that dark water or life with the owner of those arms, I felt connected to neither, aware of bodily sensations that came with both, aware of sounds I made or tried to make, but … I hovered between.

 _ _Are you ready to die in order to be reborn?__

A final time I was asked. I knew it was the last time. I could feel it. Death. Life. I had a choice, whatever this 'reborn' thing was all about, and ...

"Y-es..." I heard my own voice answer, much clearer than I could have imagined, much louder. The answer was so easy to come up with, like I'd already decided, I wasn't ready for whatever lay beyond the darkness. Curiosity about it faded. Death faded. The chasm of the unknown closed and I tipped sideways, violent, into the pain and agony of life.

Rope dug into my limbs, under legs, under back, and I was sprawled awkwardly across soft yielding ground that gave way under elbows as I tried to move. Everything hurt, every single fucking thing, and while I suspected it was a successful attempt at movement I couldn't feel anything. Was I paralysed? Was I dead after all?

Voices. Feet. Feet that made the soft ground shudder, give way, press against a leg. Hands. Coughing. My eyes fluttered open and slammed shut as bright sunlight stabbed into my poor shattered brain. Oh god. Was I dying?

A hand brushed hair out of my face and I flinched. It hurt to be touched. It was gentle but it was too much.

"Miss?"

"My Lady?"

The word seemed bizarre. Wrong. I couldn't open my eyes to glare at whoever it was. I felt confused, hurt, stunned, blinded, my chest was heavy, and I couldn't _move and my stunned senses were starting to give way to a sense of pride and anxiety at being so helpless._

"I..." My voice cracked. Okay. I couldn't talk either. There was a surge of energy that allowed me to tip onto my left side, curling up, soft wet something smearing against my cheek. It at least seemed to reduce the glare from beyond my eyelids.

The voices exchanged words that I couldn't quite pick up and there was movement. The more I woke the more I could really picture it, someone moving away and returning, someone else coughing nearby, movement a short distance away again, and a single person sitting beside me. They weren't moving but they weren't touching me anymore, which see was a relief.

" _Nen_ , hurry." There was a command to that, some guy ordering someone around, though the next statement really made no sense whatsoever. He spoke something else I didn't catch but I did hear the sound of a horse come closer.

So it was a horse. The smell, one of many, suddenly made sense. Horse. Also a fire. Fish? Possibly. I wasn't sure. Mud. I smelt very wet earth right next to my nose.

Why the hell was I thinking about that? It didn't matter. God, did I hurt, I didn't care what it was. Why was I concentrating on _mud_? I tried to move, only to feel a shock of pain run through my shoulder. Mud was a very satisfying pillow at the moment. When I went to move, a hand pressed on my shoulder, and the voice chastized me.

"Stop wriggling around. Wait a moment to wake." It was a male voice, I thought, but it could have been a female voice. Maybe? Another exchange of words between them and whoever else was here, words that once again I couldn't understand, and the shuffling of feet on the ground away from us.

"All right. Keep your eyes shut and try to sit up using your left arm."

I didn't dare disobey. What kind of bodily damage would I wake to? What was wrong with my right arm? The person was there, right there, supporting my body with their hands, as careful as ever. It felt like it took forever to achieve being upright, my head spun, but it was a relief when I found that I was able to remain there.

Still, I kept my eyes shut, anxiety rising. Why did I hurt? What had happened? I reached up to wipe at my face, at the chunks of mud or whatever was there, and almost lost my balance as the left arm was taken away.

"Just wait, Miss. I'm going to clean your face with a cloth, in a momen', but first I need to take care of some bleeding."

"Blee- _bleeding_?"

"Here. Have a quick drink of water." Something was offered, warm but welcome, and I didn't care that gulping in the water also felt as if I was drinking half the mud from the river from my face."Focus on breathing. I'll let you know when to look."

"Why can't I look now?" There was that panic again. Why didn't he want me to open my eyes?

"Because panic isn't going to help and we can't see anything under all that mud. Focus on breathing. In and out. Slow. I'm going to start with your arm and your right hand." Firm hands grasped for my right arm, something wound around the length of it, and I tried to remember to breathe as instructed. "Now, your calf, but I'll be wrapping up high your thigh."

"Is it all injured?"

"You're covered in mud, so don't panic, I'm being careful. I just can't see enough yet. After that, I'll wrap around your torso. If anywhere hurts more than others, or I miss a spot, then you can tell me."

He continued to do as he'd warned, repeating the warning before moving to a new area, and it was all I could do to breathe as I sat there numbed and paralysed in panic. Was there blood everywhere? How did that happen? Blood was usually meant to be inside the body, not holding eyes shut. I heard a flutter of words as the cloth, I had to guess that was what it was, moved over my eyes carefully. Water trickled down, thick mud sliding away, and the cloth returned after a quick dip in water, repeating the process. Another language. Pretty, sure, but it made no sense to me.

"You can look. If the sun's too much then I'll shade your eyes."

I hesitated, a moment, suddenly afraid of what I'd see. The stranger's hand was pressed against my forehead waiting for my bravery. Finally I did it. One eye, quickly, then the other, wincing despite the assisted shadow. The face in front of me was familiar, delicate boned, high cheeked, a pretty face only slightly marred with subtle concern that made their face furrow somewhat. Neither masculine nor feminine, a mixture of both, a middle ground that matched their voice.

"Don't try to stand just yet." They warned me. Gestured to the people behind them, a small crowd of mixed ages, a mud splattered arm spending more of the mud spattering over a bright green and gold tunic. "Can we get her on the cart?"

"There's not a lot of room, but aye, we'll find a place."

"Wa-" I coughed, a horse ugly thing compared to this pretty person, and something rose up out of my stomach. Water exploded everywhere, all over the place, up from my stomach and my lungs. All over me and the pretty person. Well, they'd told me to not move. I hadn't moved. I'd coughed and vomited. It was a disgusting mixture of brown, grit, red, slime, dirt, rocks, a river soup fermented by my stomach and lungs. The agony of the movement, the stabbing fire in my rib cages and muscles, was briefly the worst part, but it was quickly replaced by an inability to breathe between retching. For a moment the panic grew almost fever pitch, as the ability to breathe was taken away, and the stranger's hand was quick to rub and pat my back. The fear of being unable to breathe temporarily trumped the pain his gesture inflicted. Thank god I felt the gunk clear enough to gasp for air and my hands clutched the ground. Splatters of it had landed on their green pants, already stained and wet with the mud, making the silk-like texture become filthy and disgusting.

"You were in the river. Just let it come up. There's water in this bottle that you can drink if you need." Somehow they didn't seem the least bit fazed by the fact that someone had just vomited on his leg. The water was offered again, kept within a large bladder-like bag, and I gulped down what I could to remove the thick acidic bile caught in my throat.

"Try to drink slowly, if you can, there's not a shortage of water. We'll get you up on the cart and you'll be able to get dry soon enough. Have you got a name?"

A name? I had a name. I was sure of that. I just couldn't find it. It was an empty gaping hole in the front of my head. The hesitation and confusion must have been pretty plain.

"It'll come. Ready to be moved?" When I nodded they stood up, brushing their hands on their already filthy legs to clean them, and bent down. "I'll pull you up under the arms and I'll try to avoid it hurting. It will though."

He was fucking right about that. The moment he started _it_ started as well, earnist and loud, and I could only cope by grasping for the collar of my clothing with my teeth and held on, shoving the thick fabric on in there, supressing a shudder at the sensatin of fabric and teeth. White dots danced in my vision as I was lifted, half dragged and then lifted again onto the back of a cart where sacks and chests had been haphazerdly piled up to one side.

It took a while to breathe again. To think. Function. By now the rescuer and their companions were away, talking amongst themselves, one of them soaking wet. I was trying to put together the picture in my head and only with a good five minutes of compete and utter stillness, breathing and waking, could I really start to see what I had to assume had happened.

We were near a river. The bank was muddy, torn up,the patch where I'd been lying a fairly obvious space as it was dug up. The river was rough, white in places, stones and whatnot. Forest crowded in on the bank on the far side and on this side a road wound a little up away from the road. Had I been in that river? It seemed so, yet I had no memory of it, nor of anything else. I remembered dying though and had to assume I was ...drowning?

There were so many questions and none of them could be asked. My lungs were not having it. I had to put them aside and settle for breathing instead.

The sunshine was warming on my skin and I felt the longer I stayed still the more I could sleep. Was it safe though? What if I fell asleep and never woke again? Fear of that memory- of dying- was starting to crowd in on the anxiety. It crowded in on the confusion. It chased me into the uneasy sleep, dogging my dreams, forcing me to remain in a half-awake state of fear. Anticipating something terrible.

I just didn't know what it was.

Still the rest did pull me away. The sun was low by the time I could open my eyes again, golden light on tall trees, the cart bumping and dancing under me. A horse and rider were to one side, another behind, the pace slow but steady. There was a water bladder beside me and I drank it with a clumsy thirst, spilling too much, triggering another coughing-vomiting episode that fouled the cart's already now filthy sacks. The water bladder fell, mid-gasp, water lost to the road under the wooden slats of the cart.

"Sorry."

"More water here." Another was tossed at me. "There's always more."

I made eye contact with the person, the same who'd carefully wrapped me up, brief. They were the one riding closest. They had changed, it seemed, their clothing was once again immaculate and lovely. Golden hair was braided back from the face, making the sharp ear tips, high cheekbones and narrow chin even more pronounced, slender neck apparently going for miles to the neckline of their tunic. Were they still watching out for me? I wanted to thank them and almost did, but I felt awkward about it, uncertain. So I sipped the water and tried to not stare. It was hard not to. Here I was, mud drenched and blood spattered, and they had transformed themselves back into a perfect fricken angel on horseback. The golden light only made them glow with almost vulgar beauty.

Maybe that was why I felt awkward. I couldn't see myself but I could feel every stiff inch of mud-and-blood crusted body.

The others in their companionship were as lovely as him, all of them unearthly in their slender bodies, sharp faces, pointed ears, ageless faces passing over me with indifferent pity as if I was an injured animal in their party rather than a person. I supposed I was observing them with a detached sort of sense as well- these people didn't feel quite real. Maybe I was hallucinating a little.

"Do you remember your name?"

I went to shake my head and thought better of this- the only cure for the pain of existence at the moment seemed to be absolute stillness. So I answered, "No. I'm sorry."

"What about where you live? Is it nearby to the falls?"

"I don't know where I am." This was truth. It was all forest to me. Forest, road, and no sign of a river. Was it still next to road or had we passed it? I couldn't raise myself enough to see. Between helpful slips of water I added, "Or where I was."

"Head injuries have been known to hide memories." Another voice ahead- presumably the one who was leading the cart- spoke up. "With time, healing, you'll likely remember."

There was an exchange at that, their musical-like language heated for a moment, words thrown over my head between riders seen and unseen. How many were here? At least a dozen I guessed, the majority ahead of us.

"I'm sorry." I offered. I could guess I was the source of their argument.

"We won't leave an injured being behind to die. It would be cruel. If you die with us, we can say we tried, but leaving you... it is unacceptable." This came from the stranger next to me, the androgynous golden beauty, their hand briefly leaving their horses neck to touch the edge of the cart. They glanced forward, pointed towards someone, and I wondered if this was the argument I'd just heard. "We are not monsters who allow suffering where something can be done."

Another heated discussion, two of them speaking about me all over again. It sounded heated. Were they arguing? I had the distinct feeling it was about me. And not in a positive way. I was exhausted, bone weary, the pain in my limbs a lead weight pulling me back under.

The Angel, for lack of a better nickname, gestured at me. "Just rest. Leave your safety to us."

Despite having no evidence that they were telling the truth I gave in, too exhausted, too sore, to really fight.

Sleep was not much better than it had been before, broken with confusion and panic, but it was deep and it was dark when I rose above it again. Noises assaulted my ears. Confused I thought they were sirens at first, and I wondered if someone had called an ambulance for me, but after a few moments of confusion I couldn't recall what exactly an ambulance was.

The sky was clear above me. Cold, but clear, stars blanketing with such frequency and brightness that it dumbfounded me with its beauty and I was certain I'd never seen such a sight before. Blankets of colour were caught between them, from dark blue to lighter green blues, dancing and shifting. I was not in pain, but I was bound tightly, and I couldn't tell if it was my imagination or if I had been tied up. Sleep drew me back down again.

When I woke again I was in a bed, a simple wooden narrow bed with an ornate arched window above me, curtains dancing against the darkening blue skies and clean linen bright in the dim room. A small fire was dying in a hearth across the room, thick ceramic mugs hanging above it, a silver jug and cup beside me on a small pale wooden table. There was pain, yes, but it was blanketed under something else. A sense of peace, calm, relief.

It occurred to me that I was drugged. Maybe I had been drugged by the water. Still I felt no anxiety about this, the panic was shut up, and the pain was a non issue. When I tried to sit up it involved rolling over and even that sent a wave of vertigo that had me pinning my head into a soft pillow for relief. So soft. The urge to rub my cheek in the pillow overwhelmed the urge to stand and I pressed my face into it. My clean face.

Mud free. I was mud free.

Somehow the idea of someone touching, bathing and dressing me had enough shock value to it to get me upright. I sat there, numbed, staring at myself, confused and a little embarrassed to see that I had indeed been changed. Bandages crept here and that, the clothing was the most basic pale brown but soft and clean, and one hand was bandaged from wrist to fingers with god knew how much padding inside. I didn't dare peek. Clearly there was something around my head as well, it felt tight, my hair pulled back some good distance. Was it cut off? No... When I reached to feel for it I found it there, thank god, but braided back.

Over at the fire something had started to boil. I couldn't see what was in the pot but I could hear it, thick, smell something soup-like, and there was a bowl sitting upright against the edge of the hearth presumably warming with its back turned to the coals.

"Good morning." A woman. Nice, friendly smile, with that unearthly beauty of my rescuers. But clearly a woman. She wore a gown, Who knew though? Maybe I was wrong.

Morning? A wave of disorientation made my head spin. _Morning_? "But it was evening..."

"You've been resting. We needed to keep you still. The injuries needed time."

"How much time?" I wanted to stand now. Standing felt like I was doing something. Taking over this situation. My legs disagreed. "Where are the people who found me?"

"They're guests here as well. Likely sleeping. You've been here a week."

A week? How had I changed, washed, toileted...?! How embarrassing! I felt everything go warm, face, ears, neck, lost for words at this discovery. " _Here_?"

She made a noise, one that I assumed that she was answering yes, as she was busy with a ladle and the bowl. It was carefully placed beside me on the table with a "careful, this one's warm."

"This one?"

"You've been awake before. Mostly around this time."

This time? I took a double take at the bowl. Were there drugs in it? A careful prod with the spoon did not go unnoticed.

"There's nothing in this one. We have been reducing the medicine to give you back wakefulness. No memory of the last few days?"

I picked up the spoon, slowly, testing my left arm. Another prod. Nothing suspicious in it and ...I could see no reason for her to lie. Still I had no memory and it was a scary thing to have so much time gone. It was even scarier to realise I still had no memory of anything before the riverbank.

"No. Nothing. Nothing at all." And, lower, frustrated with my brain, "Not even my name."

"You've had visitors trying to help."

"I have?"

The woman took a seat beside me on the bed, shuffling my legs aside, her touch insanely gentle for the strength it actually took to move me. She was a soft faced woman, despite the sharper traits of the people here, wider, light eyes a hazel in the light. Red straight hair that on closer inspection had a good number of silver hairs hiding as highlights. She was kind enough. I decided I probably liked her. Still, the thought of her having to do things for me like take care of me, it was a hard pill to swallow.

Once I'd eaten and I was given space, I waited, half expecting to fade into sleep despite her promise and loose memory of this morning as well. Yet I didn't, and the hours seemed to give me more strength, until I was able to swing my legs both out of the sheets and make contact with the stone tiles under the bed. The morning sun was warm and soothing on bare arms through the curtains. An urgency made my movement more purposeful as I realised that I did actually need to find a toilet and fast, and without anyone around, I was left to attempt to wobble to my still bound legs and manoeuvre a very unsteady body across the small room with the assistance of furniture and walls. One leg seemed to be steady enough and I could use it as my main support, thankfully, the other too stiff and bound to be of much more use than a prop.

There was thankfully a solution found beyond the very first door I found. A hole on a plank of wood, a bucket, and the distinct smell of ...well, it wasn't great, but it was at least confirmation that I was in the right place. Thankfully the plank was wide enough to feel like I wasn't about to go tumbling down and spill (literal) shit and the wide arched windows, while making me feel weirdly exposed even with them opening into forest only, were breezy enough to carry scents out of the cosy room. Wet cloth and a decent flow of water through the room via a channel in the floor was more than enough of a hint as to the purpose, even without instruction, but it felt awkward to assume. Still I cleaned myself up and returned to the room relieved and solved of one problem.

Another problem I'd only just started to become aware of was already solved by the sight of a silver platter near the window adorned with flowers, leaves, fruit and a knife. A silver jug and a goblet made from crystal sat beside it. I slid into the chair slowly, nursing a still aching body, and dived in without hesitation. Within moments all the water was gone and the fruit with it leaving only peel and stems.

The food and time taken to eat it was finally bringing my brain back into focus. Energy pooled in my limbs again. The fog of the world was starting to lift and was starting to think beyond basic needs, beyond the room, and to my own situation.

What had happened? Where was I? Who were these people? Who were the saviours who dragged me (I assumed) out of the river?

...and _who was I_?

There was a sudden crush in my chest at that thought. Panic. Fear. Fuck. I bent forward, pushing the platter back, curling up. Bandages made this endeavour tricky but I managed it, resisting the urge to crawl under the table, or to run outside. Heart pounding I found that being curled up only worked for a brief moment before I had to stand, hobble to a window, to a door, chest heaving as lungs sought help because suddenly I needed more air than this small room could provide even _with_ the open windows. Out I stumbled onto a balcony, doors bursting open on either side of me, and I grasped the railing with one hand.

I flung the door open and stared at my right hand, peeling the bandages back, aware suddenly that things were wrong. Badly wrong. It felt wrong.

"Lady, wait!"

A voice from below.

I ignored it. There was no stopping me. There here was one answer, one fucking answer, and I wasn't waiting. It hurt to peel it backwards. Feet were pounding up stairs and heading for me but they would be too late. I could see it. Half my hand was missing. Okay. That may have been a slight exaggeration. A lot of it. Two fingers, my little and my ring finger, as well as the tip of my middle finger, like something had just cleaved my hand in two pieces. It was hideous.

I screamed in my brain, muted from shock, horrified. The impact was terrible. I didn't know exactly why, I didn't have logical reasons for why this was so bad for me, but it killed me deep inside in a way I didn't understand, like this wasn't just half a hand but me. My entire soul. Mutated. All I could do was draw in air, a shuddering breath, my left hand grasping at the railing with a white-knuckle grip that made me feel no less steady. The entire world was starting to roll.

"I know."

A hand was grasping onto my wrist, gentle but firm, and an arm was around my back. Steadying me against a post that was still firmly rooted to the ground.

"Come on. Come inside. Sit."

I didn't argue, I didn't know if I remembered how to use my voice at all, and I allowed myself to be led in and sat in a chair beside the fire. A cold cloth was placed on the back of my neck, the door left open, and the saviour sat with me until I was able to function again. Somewhere in this water was discovered and offered. They were close, leaning against my good leg, the weight and pressure drawing me back down to earth as well. Other voices came and went around us- unseen, ghosts, people my brain was yet unable or unwilling to process.

Thr Angel?

I stared at him, aware that he was indeed a him, as he stared at me with a gaze that seemed to stare with a depth and intensity that bypassed my state of panic and unravelling. He broke it quickly when he'd been found he was caught, blinking, grey eyes going down to the water that he offered again.

"It's all right. You're safe."

I believed it. I didn't know why but I did. So I drank, exhausted, the panic sinking through my tense body and vanishing into the ground under my bare feet minute by minute, while he pressed his weight onto one of my legs. How long we sat there I was unsure, it could have been minutes or hours, but he waited, unwavering and steadfast, a presence that made me feel safe and grounded.

Finally I was able to think. I was able to speak. I started with a very articulate, "Um..." and hesitated. Did I thank him or ask questions?

"Just keep breathing. I'll tell her." The man threw the second part to someone else in the room, a stranger to me, someone who stood there calm and quiet with their arms crossed. "You're safe."

A deep breath. I accepted this. Sure. Okay. Safe.

When I seemed to be ready he continued as he stood to his feet. "I found you in a river, face down, alone. There were injuries."

The man behind him spoke up at that. "Broken bones, your hand was badly cut, a head wounded. All almost healed now."

"We were coming to Rivendel and it was decided-"

"- _Ordered_ -" The man coughed, softly, muttering something under his breath in a tongue I couldn't catch.

" _Decided_ that we'd bring you. You've been looked after for eighteen days."

Eighteen? I felt the world sway, again, dizzy. Why had I assumed it'd been only a few days? Was this why my body felt so weak? "Who are you two?"

"I'm- I'm a friend. Legolas."

"Lord Legolas Greenleaf of the Woodland Realm. Elf Prince, son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm." The man behind him cut in. Sharp. It seemed to be directed towards the blonde rather than to me. " _We_ are Elves and _you_ are very lucky to be welcomed here for any period of time, regardless of your state of body."

"Okay, okay, I didn't need his entire bloody family tree." I muttered. Or the damn lecture. Was that rude? Maybe. But then I paused. Legolas. _Legolas_. The named seemed familiar. I didn't know why or how. Somehow it made me giggle, a weird out of the blue reaction to the entire situation, and the look on their face only made me want to laugh more. Like I'd lost my mind and they were terrified they'd somehow broken me. Why was that name so _funny_? I had no clue. It just was.

There was an argument between them at that, Legolas and this other man, swift language dancing between them.

"You have no memories?" The dark haired elf shot at me. He was suspicious of me, I realised, he didn't trust me at all. Hadn't even given me his _name_.

"None." Except that Legolas' name wanted to make me laugh all over again. It seemed totally unreal. I couldn't help it, I asked again to Legolas, "You sure that's your name?"

A fresh wave of hysterics washed over me at the name _Legolas_. _Legolas Greenleaf._ I felt like I'd lost my mind somehow. Seriously. What was it about these names that made me want to laugh in their faces? I felt bad, especially when I saw the other guy frown, and tried to stop it. "So... sorry. Not sure why I'm laughing." I couldn't understand it. Part of me didn't want to get them angry. Part of me didn't want to laugh- it fucking hurt! And part of me just found it plain hilarious. I must have been going mad.

"Very." He was deadly serious. Stared at me with intense concern. Then he turned to his friend and they resumed the argument. It wasn't aggressive, exactly, but Legolas seemed determined. Finally his friend seemed to let up and Legolas spoke to me once again. "You're recovering. Things are emotional."

That was the fucking truth, right there. I quietened down and stared at my hand, again, the hysteria draining away.

They left me to rest, and I was relieved, because suddenly I was exhausted. The quick energy burst was gone.

Dreams dogged me, mixed with the fluttering of my eyes and the sight of road and trees, dreams of things. Flooded rivers. Water. Drowning. Voices in my head, screams, crying. I wasn't sure what it was- it was a nightmare, and every time I opened my eyes, it became too shadowy to really remember beyond the drowning But then, when I dreamed, this world with the pretty man seemed more dream than reality, and I couldn't figure out which was real. The flood or the pretty man in the pretty clean forest. It seemed like neither was real. Both were real.

My head hurt.

I blinked up at the ceiling, suddenly awake again, staring at a carving of a woman bent over me, her face sad. Soft sheets. A face stared at me. Another face. Legolas, the pretty elf. Another face. A woman. Or was it a man? There were so many feminine longed haired people, I kept seeing them between sleep, that I was starting to get confused.

I woke again, for real, to a late afternoon glow throughout the room and the strange dreams and nightmares chased me as I sat bolt upright disorientated for a moment or two. Numb, as well, emotionally and physically. My mutilated hand was no longer wrapped or covered, nor were my legs, and when I tore the sheets from them I found a surprising lack of evidence about the injuries I'd supposedly had- some bruising, _maybe_ , but everything looked normal.

I also felt bad. For laughing. What had I been thinking? It was cold now. The sheets, beyond where my body was, were freezing. I stretched slowly, feeling strangely numb all over, yet somehow I felt okay. Wide awake. Sun cut across my bed, a warm sun, and a little man was staring in at me through the window, his jaw open. Cute, sort of, but no mistaking him as anything but an adult man. A man who couldn't be more than four feet tall.

Was I wrong? Was I still dreaming?

We stared at each other for a very long time.

"Who are you?" He demanded, an accent mixing with clear curiosity, as his eyes stared from me to the side of my head. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Waking up." I swung one leg out slowly, testing its ability to do so, and when satisfied I found my other leg and offered it the same challenge. "Who are you?"

I suspected asking the question 'Are you real?' would be a bit rude. Dream or not.

The little man opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by someone's shout, someone not very far away.

"Pippin, where are you?"

"There's a human woman! Isn't it?" The little man, clearly Pippin, called back. He wandered in through the door and stared at me. At my hand. "You injured? Are you a human?"

I shoved my hand under a sleeve and shrugged. Minor aches. I was ...good. "I think I was injured but I'm not now? And yes, of course I am."

Elves.

The word jumped into my head. Mending me. There were things here _other_ than humans.

Another little man ran in, staring at me with the same open curiosity, but he seemed distracted. "Pippin! Stop wandering about, come on, Frodo and Sam have vanished. So has Bilbo. They're up to something. That's not a human. It can't be. We're in Rivendel!" This second one was midway through a bow when he realised what Pippin was up to, because Pippin had just crawled onto the bed and stood there.

To my amazement at his lack of boundaries and to the horror of his little friend, he reached out to push my hair back, and stared.

"No, Merry, look! She's human. All round."

"She is too." This seemed to distract his friend who approached. "Who are you?"

"I-" Before I could splutter excuses about no memory, Pippin was off again, talking with clear excitement.

"This is Merry. I'm Pippin. Are you here alone?"

"I don't know what you mean." I muttered.

"You know. There's other humans around too. Dwarves too. Lord Elrond won't tell us what they're all gathering for." Pippin informed me. He flopped down on the bed, tugging something out of his pocket, adding, "It's okay, Merry. She's friendly. Do you smoke, Lady?"

"She's in bed, Pippin."

"She's dressed. Just hurt. Would be rude to ignore her now we're introduced." Pippin retorted. He glanced at me. "And there's been visitors. I saw them. She was sick. You feeling better now?"

I glanced down again at the clothing. I was dressed. I hadn't looked earlier. It was pretty feminine. Silky. Soft. Lilac, flowers and leaves curling their way through the folds of fabric, long sleeves and skirt. It seemed to turn a soft pastel green if the light hit it in specific directions.

"I feel okay now. I don't smoke though." I didn't think I did, anyway. "But feel free to smoke."

"If you feel better, you'll probably be hungry." Pippin informed me. He tugged something out of his pocket. Cheese? Bread? He slammed them together, tore a bit off, and held it out. "We can get more in the kitchen. The Elves don't ever go in. I don't think they eat."

"That was in your pocket." Merry reminded him. "She'll not want that. But I'll eat it."

"Oh. Right. Sorry!" Pippin settled back as he started to stuff something in a pipe, legs swinging, settling back.

" _Pippin_ , come on." Merry glanced at me as he took a big bite of the food he'd stolen. My lack of anger at this visit must have been relaxing him a little. "We were _doing_ something, remember?"

"Oh _yeah_. I almost forgot! Frodo and Sam! " Pippin blinked and grinned. He stuffed some of the food in his own mouth, shoved the pipe in a pouch again, chewing his snack energetically as he flung himself to his feet. Then he stared at me and added, "Hey, you feeling like an adventure?"

"Pippin, we don't even know who she is." Merry muttered. He was slightly less trusting of me, I suspected, though nothing like that weird pretty man with Legolas. "Who _are_ you?"

"I don't know." The memory of Legolas and his friend flashed through my head. I stared at them both. Slowly I stood up, testing my legs, finding each of them working fine. My head didn't hurt. And how long had I been in this room? Eighteen bloody days? "I must have hit my head. I don't know."

"She's fine, Merry, she's like old Pop Proudfeet who bumped his head and forgot his own family. Stumbled right into my pop's house and made himself very at home in the larder- or so he claimed, Pop thinks he was just drunk and hungry. Are you hungry? All you got is flowers." Pippin glanced at the platter, at the wilting flowers, making a face.

My stomach rumbled and I flushed. Okay. I was a bit hungry, really, and I felt kind of restless. Besides- Pippin's grin was infectious. I felt my own face mirror it, which relaxed Merry more, his own face relaxing. I'd been in bed for ages, hadn't I? No one could blame me for wanting to have a walk. An adventure even.

Besides, someone had been nice enough to dress me up. Shoes would have been helpful if I could find some.

"Sure, why the hell not. Give me thirty seconds-" At their blank looks, I tried, "I mean, give me a moment, and I'll meet you outside."

They were gone pretty fast for such tiny legs. I searched for shoes and found leggings instead. A hesitation and then I carefully pulled them on, strangely relived by the reassurance under my dress, but had to give up on the shoes idea. Ah well. It looked like outside was all paths and grass anyway. I went outside, bare feet crunching on autumn leaves, and stared around. Now. Little men... little men...

Merry and Pippin were leaning against the wall, Pippin again eating something else, and he brightened. "Great! Follow us."


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: SURPRISE._

 _Again!_

 _Trying to get my mojo back one cleaned up chapter at a time. Things will be slightly different. Hopefully problems will be sorted. Relationship and dynamics improved. Thank you for sticking with me and my process of writing._  
_

I followed the two small men through the city, bare feet a little unsteady after so long without any kind of exercise whatsoever, feeling that odd disorientating sense of being too tall and clumsy to really belong here- towering over these smaller men and lumbering around in dirty bare feet around pretty mostly androgynous beings.

It was clear that we'd sneak no where fast if I kept trying to do this in a dress. It was too lovely for bushes. Too delicate. Too far down my feet for sneaking. We had to turn back so I could change, which Pippin used as an excuse to smoke the pipe he'd refilled. Merry was soon puffing next to him.

In the room I'd woken in there was dresses within a wardrobe of sorts, only six or so, but each with the same absurd level of craftsmanship as the one I wore now. Pastels seemed to be the thing to wear, soft purples, blues, greens, or mixtures of these with greys. Within drawers of this wardrobe were things between leggings and pants, much like one I'd slipped on under my dress, the thick good kind that looked like they were designed for riding or something with their slightly wider legs but thick fabric. Long tops were apparently folded beside them. Jackets. Nice. We were getting somewhere. I supposed this was riding stuff. Or was it mens clothing? There was no way to really be sure. From the limited stuff I'd seen around here I wouldn't dismiss the idea.

In a hurry I changed. Dress folded up, long top on, sleeves and neckline tied up with laces, and jacket. Pause frequently because my body seemed to think dressing was too much.

Taking a step outside I had to admit- it felt more comfortable. Free. I could move better. Whoever I was- and I still didn't know my own damn name- I must be more of a pants-and-shirt kind of person. Dresses were just a bit too intimidating in effort.

"You a man?" Merry's voice cut into my daze.

"A pretty man?" Pippin's eyes openly trailed down to my chest where, although the jacket hid it better, I still clearly had feminine attributes. "No, she's a woman."

"Wouldn't know it with that clothing." Merry said bluntly.

I didn't really care though. I did the buttons up on the jacket and shrugged. "Doesn't bother me what you see me as. Its comfortable."

"Up to you." Merry turned. "Let's go!"

Off we went. Weaving through a mind boggling amount of beauty, gardens, statues, fountains and waterfalls, ponds full of jewelled fish, buildings that were silver and birch with tall arched windows and perfectly white curtains barely concealing the inside from the paths. The entire city was within a valley, protected and held between two tall hills that looked too steep and high to cross, yet the sun clearly set in the right position for there to be a lot of light even as the day grew long. There was a river that charged and danced under everything the city was built of- incorporated into half the gardens, I suspected, and itself surrounded by buildings.

There was an infinite amount of care and love in a place like this. I couldn't deny but see that with every bend in the path. Benches carved from stone were frequent, and I had to sit, so as I did I'd watch the hobbits pause beside me to gape with open awe. Progress wasn't that fast between my body's limitations and the curiosity of Pippin and Merry who often couldn't resist peeking into windows, through doors or staring openly at the Elves we crossed paths with.

In such a place I suspected I'd get lost fast without them. I had a bad thought suddenly. What if they got lost? Expected me to know the way? I had to ask.  
"How long have you two been here?"

"A week." Pippin replied as he glanced back. I kept thinking of him as a child but he wasn't. He had lines in his face and signs of aging in his skin. But he had that childish thing in his eyes, this excitement, this curiosity that made him look younger. He might have been thirty in reality. Might have been a really young fifty. I couldn't tell by looking at him.

"You know where we're going?"

We had paused to stare through the trees, voices lowering automatically, watching Elves down on soft grass below. They were twirling, dancing, laughing, free and joyful as autumn leaves danced around them. There was a kind of glorious magic in their dancing, in their songs, and while I couldn't understand the words I could feel it. Love, maybe? Maybe it was that simple. The joy of living.

"Where are we going?"

"Frodo and Sam have gone to a meeting. Without us. They were all dressed up and nervous. I know, _I just know_ , they're up to something. Without us!" Merry whispered. He crowded on my either side. "We need to go, Pip."

"I know." Pippin withdraw, as did I, and the pace seemed to pick up. I did my best to keep up with them.

"So who are they? And you?"

"Oh! You wouldn't know. We're Hobbits, you see, and we're all from the Shire. I'm Pippin, this is Merry, and our friends Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee. Where are you from?"

"I don't remember." Why was this making me crave cheese? My brain was coming up with images of giant cheese wheels, loaves of bread, giant pumpkins, and other such food. Weird. Was this a memory or a ...craving? I supposed I'd only eaten fruit today.

"Oh. Right."

We froze suddenly. The two of them ducked back out of sight, and I copied, almost by instinct. Merry covered Pippin's mouth, a gesture unnecessary, and we watched as a pair of Elves passed by.

It occurred to me that they probably knew we were there. Surely. Any moment I expected them to swing around, point their spears at us, and demand we go back to our rooms.

They continued on, legs swinging in perfect synchronised steps, feet absolutely silent on the path, faces obscured by helmet and hair. Beautiful but a bit scary too. I bet they could wield those spears with similar beautiful synchronised deadliness and decided that I'd never try to find out just how willing they would be to use them.

When they were some distance away along the path Merry grinned and stepped out into the late afternoon sun. He had to be around thirty too, I realised, but he was like Pippin- every time they smiled, or grinned, or got that look in their eye, they looked like teenagers. Naughty teenagers joyfully about to do something that would get them in a lot of trouble.

I suddenly wondered what the hell I'd gotten myself into by following these two. Oh _boy_. With such infectious smiles I couldn't help but smile a fraction too. Even with the growing apprehension that I was probably doing something really wrong.

Ah well. Had to do something to amuse myself.

Down the path we went. The area we were entering into seemed to be far more spaced out, gardens and forest between buildings, windows obscured and protected from prying eyes with beautifully grown flowering trees. It seemed almost unnaturally perfect. Streams of water danced across large smooth pebbles under small arched bridges, twisting wooden handrails of vines growing just high enough for palms to touch soft leaves and bark, little courtyards off the main path with arched walls.

We had to hide again, then again, as the guards increased.

"We must be close." Merry decided after the third patrol.

"Do you know where you're going though?"

"Sure. This way." Pippin decided as he jabbed in a direction. No argument from Merry.

We crept slowly along, trying to keep out of sight when we could, and trying to walk innocently when we couldn't get away with it. This involved walking, smiling nicely, and Pippin jabbing his head in a nod at an Elf or two. Of course they noticed, of course they stared, but then they didn't stop us either.

I had this really bad feeling that I was doing something really stupid.

Merry froze suddenly at the entrance to a courtyard and I was yanked sideways behind one of the immaculate bushes, as was Pippin, the three of us suddenly crowded up with sticks jabbing into bits. Ivy was parted just slightly to allow us the smallest sliver of a view.

A courtyard. Full of people. Men, small but bulky bearded men, small men like these two, and Elves. We could hear voices and we could see them all, if we moved our head, the gap allowing for one or two faces at a time.

As the words were spoken I had the most bizarre sense of dejavu. It was like I'd heard them before. I could almost picture the faces of whoever was speaking without having to look directly at them.

"-forces of Mordor at bay by the blood of our people! Are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let _us_ use it against him!"

"You cannot wield it. None of us can. The one ri-"

My concentration was interrupter by Merry who was pointing out to me one of the little men in the gathering. He looked out of place and a little uncomfortable, the chair far too big for him, eyes fixed on either a pillar in the middle or on the ground.

"That's Frodo."

"Where's Sam though?"

I saw also that Legolas was there. The blonde angel who'd yanked me out of the river. His less friendly companion sat beside him.

Legolas was suddenly on his feet, between a man with dark blonde hair and another with dark brown. It was easy to make out his words. "This is no mere Ranger. He is _Aragorn_ , son of Arathorn. You _owe_ him your allegiance."

Okay. Son of blah blah. This was a weird way to introduce someone to me. Unless the blonde man knew Aragorn's father personally but ...didn't know he had a kid?

Whatever. Families could be complicated. The bigger issue seemed to be

Right now I was confused about why they were arguing over a ring. Yet, it was so familiar. All of it. It felt like I'd already seen it, all of it, but …

"Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?" The blonde man actually looked a bit shocked.

"And heir to the throne of Gondor." Legolas must have not had enough of the 'rubbing salt in wound', because he added, eyes fixed on the blonde man.

I almost said 'Ooooh' out loud. Right. Families in this situation were apparently very complicated- because the heir to a throne was apparently a shock. I supposed that would be. I had some memory reminding me that entire countries went to war fighting over which heir was the right heir.

The dark haired man sounded kind of frustrated. Like he hadn't wanted to reveal this now. " _Havo dad_ , Legolas."

The blonde man scowled. "Gondor has no King. Gondor _needs_ no king."

Yep. _Complicated_. Maybe they'd had some kind of rebellion. Ended the monarchy or something. I'd have to ask if I could ever admit I'd been here in the first place.

There was a pause as the men sat there, a kind of awkward pause, until the old man spoke up. I sat there on my legs, staring in, as they continued to have their meeting. I was hooked now though. This was interesting stuff. Merry and Pippin clearly had a good idea.

"Aragorn is right. We _cannot_ use it."

"You have only one choice. The ring must be destroyed."

I twisted my head between each unknown speaker, nicknaming them as they spoke, Beards, The Brow, ect.

One of the small men with beard leapt up, axe in hand. "Then what are we waiting for?" He charged for it with the axe, striking something tiny on the pillar in the middle of them all, and to my absolute fucking shock the entire damn axe EXPLODED. Metal went everywhere. The poor hairy man went flying backwards, almost comically, landing on his ass in amongst pieces of his former weapon.

I flinched, so did Merry and Pippin, as pieces of the man's axe flew past us. I missed the first part of Beard as I tried to get a grip on my nerves.

"-ust be taken deep into Mordor, and cast back into the fiery chasm from whence it came. One of you must do this." The calm voice finally made sense to my frazzled brains. I had missed the first of what he'd said but I supposed there was something that had to be ...burnt?

Okay then.

If it could make axes explode then I'd want to burn it too.

Beard's voice was weird though. It was familiar. _So_ familiar. Like I could just say the words with them. This entire thing. It felt like I knew exactly what they'd do as they did it.

I opened my mouth, wordlessly finding myself saying the words with the blonde man, much to my surprise and the surprise of Pippin who did a double take as his head swung between me and the crowd.

"One does not simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There is an evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eye is ever watchful. It is a barren wasteland, riddled with fire and ash and dust, the very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this. It is folly."

Word for word. I got it all correct. I didn't know why. A little creeped out by this, a little too creeped out, I slammed my mouth shut. Accidentally made eye contact with Pippin, who blinked at me, and I blinked back.

Merry hadn't noticed, his eyes were on the meeting, and Pippin's eyes went from me to the meeting slowly as Legolas spoke again.

"Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond has said? The ring must be destroyed." Lord Elrond? That must have been who was speaking.

This was about a ring? Seriously? A _ring_ made the axe explode?

The little man with the beard spoke up again. "And I suppose _you_ think you're the one to do it?"

"And if we fail, what then? What happens when Sauron takes back what is his?" The blonde man clearly was not satisfied with this, he was almost ready to stand, I saw his shoulders tensing and bunching up as if he was seconds from standing all over again.

It wasn't just him though- everyone in that meeting, except Frodo, looked tense and angry, like they were seconds from punching someone in the face. The little beard man was the first to rise up though, fast, anger and resentment all over his face. People were just about ready to start smacking each other in the face.

"I will be dead before I see the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"

That did it. People on feet, voices raised, languages charging at each other, words almost impossible to make out from our viewpoint. Now would probably be a good time to slip away and pretend like we'd heard nothing of this. I was about to suggest it when Pippin spoke.

"Wonder where Sam is?" Pippin said softly, pretty lighthearted for the moment, as he shifted closer to my side to see better. "Can you see him, Merry?"

"Shh, Pippin. We'll get caught." Merry hissed and nudged him

A soft voice rose over the loud din of the arguments. Something about someone taking it. It was a weirdly effective thing. The storm of voices and anger seemed to fizzle out as a small figure stepped out from his over-sized chair. Smaller than them all, even the small bulky men, and the youngest of them all, he shouldn't have been able to over-talk them ...but he was.

"Frodo?" Pippin blinked.

"-I'll take it." Frodo was saying, as the crowd turned in his direction, partly blocking him from view. "Though...I do not know the way."

Beards had his back. He shuffled across, dodging what I assumed were sharp chunks of axe, his calm voice and demenour reassuring Frodo as he responded, "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

More movement, and another voice, the dark haired man. Son of... I didn't remember. The surprise heir to Gonder.

"If, by my life _or_ death, I can protect you I will. You have my sword."

"And you have my bow."

That was Legolas. I knew the voice without having to see him speak it.

"And my axe."

"You carry the fate of us all, little one." The angry blonde man seemed to have calmed down as well. For now. I could see him now, the crowd was clearing, see the little group standing around Frodo. "If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

That was ...nice of him. I wondered if I'd ever trust someone who could go from angry to calm so fast. There was something about him that bothered me and I couldn't quite place it. Before I could think more on it another voice, from bushes just across from us, shouted out.

"Here!"

"Sam!" Pippin exclaimed, spitting out bread (where the hell did he get that bread?) as he sat up straighter, alert now. "There's Sam!"

"Shh, I know!" Merry jabbed him, standing, like he was getting ready to run off. Pippin stood too, and I stood slowly, my knees aching from kneeling on the cold stone.

" Mr. Frodo's not gong anywhere without me." This Sam placed himself at Frodo's side.

"No, Indeed...it is hardly possible to separate you...even when he is summoned to a secret council ...and you are _not_." He sounded sort of amused.

I felt kind of sick suddenly. Secret meeting? _Oh crap_. I mean, I saw the guards, sure, but I hadn't really thought about it. A few hours as their conscious guest and I was already doing the wrong thing.

Merry jolted forward, suddenly, Pippin following him, one of Pippin's hands on my wrist. His precious bread loaf crashed to the ground in his haste. I had no choice but to follow, as I was taken by surprise and almost toppled after them, feet catching me before I did a dramatic crash n roll.

" Oi! We're coming too! You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

Legolas caught my eyes and I saw surprise, just briefly, flash across his face. Concern? Well. I had almost fallen on my face. I flushed as I was dragged past a bunch of strangers, past this dark haired Elf dude in charge, and Pippin's grip on my wrist only slackened when we were a few feet away and I could put up some decent resistance.

I skidded to a halt. These two might fit in a sack but me? They stood themselves firmly beside their friends and I wished the ground would swallow me up to hide me the fuck away because, damn, woops, I didn't mean to crash a top secret meeting. Adventures were one thing! But this?

"Anyway...you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission... quest... thing..."

"Well, that rules you out, Pip." Merry grinned at his friend.

I felt Lord Elrond's eyes burning into me and I made myself look at him. Tried to communicate that I was sorry.

How did I even know his name?

Did I know these people before I'd hit my head? I stared at him, distracted by memories, aware I knew things about him. I knew that he was a half elf, I knew that he had three grown children, that his wife had been attacked and had suffered so badly that they'd sent her somewhere where she could recover but she'd never return from, I knew that he himself was a twin and his twin was long dead. Things that were private. Things that only someone close should know. This information flashed through my head as our eyes met, and it felt like he'd known what I'd thought, because for a fraction of a second I was sure I saw surprise there. Shock even. I might have just imagined it though because then it was gone. It was so brief that I might have imagioned everything.

Maybe I'd made all that shit up. Maybe I was trying to cope by making shit up.

" Nine companions. So be it. You shall be the "Fellowship of the ring."

"Great. Where are we going?" Pippin grinned. Was he joking or serious?

I wasn't sure.

The meeting broke up at that. Fellowship divided up by race, quite literally, little hairy muscular dudes going off in one direction, the ordinary looking men going off in a few directions without so much as a dirty look at each other, the small men crowding around Frodo, the Elves vanishing in several directions.

Legolas came up to me. He didn't say anything, not a word, but he reached out to brush my arm in a strangely familiar way that made chills go up my arm. I stared uncertaintly after his back as he moved on, following his friends, aware that out of all the people here he was one of three I actually 'knew'. Sort of. I supposed it was natural to be ...a bit drawn … towards someone who saved your ass.

Lord Elrond stepped between me and the Hobbits as I turned to look back at them. He had a strange look on his face and he was joined by Beards- the old man in the grey robe.

"You and I should speak." Lord Elrond. "After the feast tonight."

"After?" Not now?

"After."

No room for argument or discussion over this. I couldn't think of a good reason to argue anyway. I was taken back to my room and left there until dark to stress.

Dinner was a feast as he'd claimed. Food everywhere. It was beautiful, of course, as beautiful as anything else these Elves did, yet I was starting to feel a bit numb to it all. Food piled up. Plates. Music. Drink. Drunk guests, and I was learning the names of every race here with the help of Merry- Hobbits, Dwarves, Men and Elves. I still had no name for myself though and when asked the first thing I could come up with, though I had no reason why, was "Wendy." It was just the first thing that'd popped into my head. It didn't feel like my real name. Yet without my own memories I just had to shrug off the uncomfortable sense of loosing myself and accept it.

In truth I was more concerned with what Lord Elrond and Beards- who turned out to be a wizard called Gandalf- were going to say to me after this feast. However delicious the food was, however bright the stars, however enchanting the music, it was shadowed over by the threat of my own earlier stupidity and the sight of Lord Elrond in deep conversation with Gandalf across the courtyard.

Others were talking of the journey. It clearly would be a long one, maps were out at tables, the Dwarves with their own, Elves and men talking together, the angry blonde man- Boromir- on his own frowning at something in his hands. Plans made. Hobbits cheerful- all except for Frodo, who was quiet, and while I didn't fully understand what his burden was I supposed it had to be heavy from the way he sat stiffly and quietly compared to the other Hobbits.

I'd been trying to come up with a good excuse. I was still half asleep?I thought I was dreaming? I didn't know it was secret? (That one was true, yes, but then again I'd known Pippin and Merry were sneaking around so some part of me must have known they were up to something.) I just couldn't come up with a good excuse. The best thing, I realised, was just to apologise.

And hope they wouldn't throw me back out into the world without a single memory.

Finally as the feast grew late and the hour long I was gestured to by Gandalf. Dread sinking my heard I stood, glancing towards the now fairly drunk Hobbits, before giving up any hope of backup. I could do this. Just apologise. Be an adult. Admit my mistakes.

They turned to make their way into the dark lantern lit paths and I followed on my unsteady legs, drawn along, wondering if I was about to get in deep shit for overhearing things I shouldn't have. There was a small library close by that we ended up in- maps, scrolls, old leather books, big soft chairs. Several Elves were there reading by the light of glass lanterns as they saw Lord Elrond they rose and left quietly leaving the library to us.

I had the distinct feeling that I'd overstepped my boundaries as a guest and done something really stupid. Crap. That was the last time I went on adventures with miniature men. Also, I _really_ had to pee. I should have thought of that complication too.

"I'm sorry." I blurted out as Lord Elrond took a seat, gesturing to one for me, and I hurridly sat down. "For eavesdropping."

"Are you?"

"Yes."

I wondered if I asked for sanctuary- would they grant it? Would they give me a bit more time to recover before I stumbled into an unfamiliar world? I wish I could say I'd forgotten the need to pee but in truth the need was more urgent- if only because my anxiety was starting to go up.

"Have you regained any memories?"

Besides potentially all his secrets, his name, his family, his _twin_? "No. Not really."

"But you remember your name? Wendy." Gandalf probed gently.

"I just said the first one that came to my head. Wendy. I don't know if its mine or not."

Lord Elrond moved to touch the table, closing a book, and his ring caught the light drawing my eye to it. I knew that ring as well. The water ring. A ring of power More knowledge I shouldn't know. That I didn't want or need to know.

He caught me staring at it and I glanced away to safer things on the table, a map, a book, anything else.

"You know things you shouldn't." He stated, softly, stepping towards me, and something in his voice trailed off. It was a question. Even a threat, somewhat, though concealed behind the query.

I wanted to step backwards but I felt rooted to the spot. Lord Elrond moved very close, his long robes shuffling gently in his movement, till he was just inches away.

"I don't know what I know." His height made it easy to avoid his eyes at this close range but it didn't help. I felt kind of nervous and wished I hadn't drunk that extra glass of wine. "It just comes into my head. I don't even know my name and I don't know if things that come in are real or fake."

"You had foresight during the Council meeting." Lord Elrond continued. "You knew the words before they'd be spoken."

How did he know that?

He didn't elaborate on that. I accepted that he knew though and flushed, embarrassed, avoiding eye contact while trying to not be awkward. I failed. Dark eyes stared evenly through mine and into my mind beyond.

Bugger. I knew I couldn't hide anything. Nothing. So I had to face it. I gazed back, meeting his dark eyes with my own eyes, trying to reassure myself as I answered, "Things just come. I don't understand it."

"No, and yet..." Lord Elrond's eyes went to my ears, and then to my hand, frowning only the slightest. I reached up to touch the ear with the remainder of my right hand.

What I did find, to my horror, was that one of my ears was gone.

Gone.

I had no fucking ear.

I grabbed for the other one and found it there, more or less, but the top of it was weird. Catching another mirror in my sight, I headed for it, not caring how rude it was. What had happened to me? One ear was more or less gone. The other was there but the top of it looked like it had literally been cut off somehow. And I had a scar across the side of my face from that cut ear to my cheekbone.

There was ear. Sort of. It was cut up. Mangled. It was hideous. Shocked blue eyes were shadowed by the white of the eyes, my face white from shock, because until now I hadn't actually seen my reflection or the damage. What. The. Hell.

"What happened to me?" I stared, heart pounding, trying to breathe. I felt kind of weird, faint, my head spun. Oh god. I was a freak. "I – I don't understand."

"You were unconscious on the banks of our river, one day north. Lord Legolas found you alone, grievously injured, half-dead. My healers could not repair the damage to your ear nor to your hand but the scarring will fade. Your body will adapt."

How much was there? I hadn't really looked at myself before. Pippin, Merry and the council thing were completely out of my head now, I stared down at my arms. There were faint scars and stuff. I mapped them, every scar, and it was like the right side of me had taken the brunt of some forgotten damage. "I don't remember how it happened."

"No." He said softly. Gently now. I'd said this before. Of course he knew that. "Your kin is, therefore, unknown and we've taken your healing and safety as our responsibility."

"Why?" I caught Lord Elrond's face in the mirror's reflection. It was suddenly guarded and he turned to walk away towards a balcony, quiet. I felt like he hadn't dismissed me. Did he need to think? The news about my ears and body kind of flustered me. "I don't think I'm like you. Or the Elves here. So I'm not from here."

"No." He agreed, softer, staring ahead. "You're not from here. But you were found in our lands. A daughter of Men, and when you're well, we'll return you from whense you came."

Gandalf had been quiet this entire time. Now he spoke, and I jumped, forgetting that he'd even been part of this. "Foresight is not a gift that Men have, not often, and your appearance is timed so that we cannot separate you from that which is taking place here. Likewise- you are not like other Men. There's something about you that belongs neither to them nor to us."

This didn't answer any questions. It just raised more. Lord Elrond didn't volenteer any other information either, he just stood there, staring at me.

"So I'm special?"

"No." Gandalf shook his head.

Oh. That was a relief and kind of insulting. I shifted on my feet as his gaze swept up and down me.

"You are different." Lord Elrond added.

For a long time we stared at each other, this Elf Lord and myself, until he changed the subject. "Your part in the Fellowship is not expected. I did not foresee your arrival, nor your part in this, and I know not what this means. But you are to go now."

Go? Oh. Was I being dismissed?

I took one step towards the door, then the other, uncertain, feeling awkward. I mean, gods, I really DID need to pee. Badly.

"Where are you going?" Lord Elrond blinked at me as I almost walked out. Confused.

"Huh?"

"Come and sit." Gandalf pulled a chair out beside him.

Wait, what? Utterly confused I took a seat. Was there more? Why had they told me to go? I went mute, confused, eyes flipping from one to the other.

"You're to go with the Fellowship."

 _Oh._ This was brought up only more questions. I was to do _what now_?

"You became apart of this quest by will of fate, for reasons I yet do not understand." Lord Elrond turned to walk towards his table again, slowly, but I felt his attention was still on me. "Your foresight may play a factor and it may assist in protecting the weaker members."

"When you have a vision, unsure or not, you bring it to me."

I was clearly being told to go with the Fellowship. An order. Not a request. It utterly confused me.

"Why though? Why me?" I was injured. I was alone. My brain was broken. " _Why_?"

"Because, while I cannot understand why, there are now four Hobbits to take part in the Fellowship and at least two of them are likely to need a watcher." Gandalf was the one to answer that.

"So you want me to babysit, er, _watch_ , two grown ass men who behave like-" Teenagers? Children? "Well, that are-"

"Innocent is the best word, I believe." Gandalf interjected, gently, a ghost of a smile on his face. "Yes. Their nativity could well be a blessing to the fellowship and I cannot say why that is yet. But we still have a duty to see our quest through and with the dangers to come …"

He trailed off. Eyes going past me, to the horizon, seeking something. Some vision of what was to come? Or was he just trying to convince himself to NOT worry about all the endless possible outcomes?

I hesitated. I was probably doing that myself. I barely remembered anything, barely knew anything, and had no idea what we'd be walking into. Literally. Walking. All. The. Way.

"Why not Elves? One of your soldiers?"

"Does it insult you that you'd not be in the Fellowship? That you would not come with us the full way but instead escort two or three Hobbits to safety should the need arise?"

"No. I don't even fully understand what its about." I admitted as I shook my head. It sounded like a big deal. It sounded like a big commitment.

"That's why. Any Elf here would be honoured to join us, The Fellowship, yet that is exactly what I'm not offering. Your name would not be remembered, your task, as you would not be in the Fellowship nor in our quest. All I'm asking- even with the dangers it involves- is an extra pair of eyes, ears and arms. We would focus on our task- you, remembering some common sense that the Hobbits sometimes lack, as you watch their backs." Lord Elrond turned to a map.

I supposed I got it. No. I didn't really care about my name being remembered, it wasn't my real name anyway, and I wasn't in this for glory or some bullshit. Didn't I owe these Elves some debt anyway for saving my ass in that river?

"And if things got hairy, if we were attacked, you know I can't probably do a lot-"

"Neither can the Hobbits. There'll be time to teach you to hide, to defend, and to heal. You need not worry about much more. If you have foresight it could prove invaluable to their safety, and to ours, and to the quest."

To me that seemed like one more person to protect. It didn't seem logical. I supposed though that even an idiot could defend themselves (and two to three small men) with a blade if they stabbed it in the right direction. The walk would apparently take a long time anyway.

I could already feel my answer. Had it always been there? This outcome? It seemed final. Like this was always how it'd go. It only took my effort in uttering the words, "All right. I'll try to help," to make it set in stone. "I'm not really confident I'll remember anything of use."

With the Fellowship. Not in it, not of it, but with it.

The babysitter.

I could hear my own words echoing back in my head that night. I'll try to help. I'll try to help. With half a hand, a swiss cheese brain that'd forgotten itself and mending bones that still hated to stand for more than two minutes.

Fuck.

What was I getting myself into?

If they were aware of my stress they didn't let on. Lord Elrond was already lifting a feather to a scroll, unwravelling it, considering me for a long moment.

"We'll name you Wenduin- maiden of the river. Wendy."

He wrote the name down. Twice, on two pieces of paper, one handed to me as it was folded.

"There's a safety in having your name close to your heart, Wenduin, and I suspect you'll want a reminder. Keep this on you." I held it, staring at it, kind of overwhelmed. Then I carefully slid it into a pocket. Lord Elrond suddenly smiled, a smile that shocked me, but it was gone for a moment.

"You will receive clothing more suited to your shape."

"But like this, yeah?" I muttered. "Not a dress?"

"Your journey to come will require more practical clothing, yes. Some dresses will be expected until then." He stood back, arms crossing, and turned to the window nearby to gaze up to the stars.

"Take heart- all things may work out."

And with that optimistic note I was dismissed.

Waiting for me was Legolas.

He was alone, quiet, leaning against the edge of a rail with his arms crossed. I couldn't read his face in the dark.

"H-hey."

"You're coming with us then."

"Yeah."

He didn't answer. Was he mad? Annoyed? I was probably a pretty useless addition. I didn't even know if I could cook, light a fire, led alone fight.

Where were we going anyway? Pippin's question was suddenly a good bloody question but I didn't want to ask it. I felt a bit stupid for not asking Lord Elrond before agreeing. All I'd gathered was that it would involve a lot of walking.

The blonde Elf remained quiet for a long time. I couldn't explain it. There was a tenseness, a heaviness, and I wondered if he was angry at me for risking my life with this after he'd saved it. Was … was that it?

"Sorry." I tried.

Legolas didn't respond to that. Instead he said, quietly, "Then its done."

"What?"

He didn't answer that either. Some part of me, some small prideful part, was admittedly starting to get annoyed with all the cryptic stuff going on. Was it so hard to be open and honest?

"Okay. Then. I … I need to go back to my room."

"Of course. I'll show you the way." He straightened, slowly, and waited for me.

In compete silence we made our way through a maze of paths, courtyards and corridors, and I felt every step of the silence weigh on me. I couldn't understand or explain what was going on- only that something was there, some tension, some unspoken thing.

Something that I wasn't being told.

When Legolas left me in the room I had only a moment to chew over it before I was accosted by maids, a bath, and a supper that I could barely fit in after the feast and the strange turn that tonight had taken.

"Tomorrow you'll move rooms to a safer place." I was informed by one of the women as the other braided my hair, gentle fingers pulling tendrils back. "Closer to the rest of the Fellowship."

"I'm not really apart of the Fellowship."

"You're joining them."

I was too oxygen deprived to argue. It had been a long afternoon and I felt bone weary. They helped me strip, which was strange, yet I was feeling so tired that I could no longer find the will to put up any arguments. I stared numbly at each scar that appeared, mostly on my right side, and at my mangled hand.

"The scars will fade," The other maid, who I'd dubbed Maid B, said softly. She must have caught me staring at them. "Your ears will not grow back."

Duh. But I didn't say anything. I just yawned, unable to hold it anymore, eyes stating to get heavy. One trip to the hole in the ground and I'd be ready to pass out.

Thankfully they left me alone once they'd redressed me and I could go in peace, balancing akwardly on the hole, and my weary brain complained toilets would be better.

God, how the hell did people live without toilets? Toilets? I had this memory of one. Big. White. Flushed stuff away. My first memory and it was of a toilet. Instead I had a hole and under that hole was a pot. Painted pretty, blue and white, and clean... but a pot. Okay. This wasn't right.

I tried to use it and almost tipped over as unreliable legs struggled to do the half squat required to aim over the hole, face red as I nearly knocked _it_ over. Where did it go later? I was sure I'd half peed all over myself trying to get my aim right.

It was with some considerable relief that I managed to finish my bisness and cover the pot with a thick piece of fabric, wash my hands and self, and crawl into the waiting steaming bath.

It had chunks of green and flowers floating away. They seemed to help ease my sore muscles, the smell sweet and minty and green, and I all but passed out until the water got too cold to bear anymore. Somehow I trudged from bath, to dry with a cloth, to bed, and collapsed.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking was sudden. Instant. I was up, legs tangled in sheets, a cold sweat and panic ridden heart having me on my feet seeking...

I didn't know. I couldn't remember.

I grasped at my stomach. _It_ hung there. This heart fluttering fear. It clung to my stomach and I wondered, just for a moment, if I would vomit. It was suddenly too stuffy in the room. Not enough air.

I stumbled for a window, nearly tripping over the sheets that had come tumbling out of the bed with me, and flung my head out of it, leaning against the wall for support with one arm as the other continued to cradle my uneasy stomach.

In. Out. In. Out.

It took some time to wake properly and to calm down. To come back to myself enough to feel a little embarrassed because if anyone was seeing this- my head poking out of a _window –_ I might look a little mad.

I slid to the ground and slumped there. Stared at my bare feet.

All right. I was _all right_.

Once I was myself again I managed to redress and get ready. It was a little anticlimactic to find out that today's planned events were going to be _nothing at all_.

Thankfully I found the hobbits with very little effort. It was hard to miss them in this place. I planned on getting answers and ended up getting bombarded with information. Useless information. Pippin and Merry just spewed it out, from the more important details about rings of power, to bizarre complaints about hobbits back in Hobbiton. Something about Frodo's cousins stealing silver, though I got lost in the 'first, second, thrice removed' details.

Brain swimming with these details I left them to explore. One thing I had realised was that we would be walking a lot and I was woefully unprepared for this. There was a lot of soft round body where I probably needed muscles. A lot of achy angry limbs that still hated movement. When I returned that night limping and sore I was chastised big time.

"They're not leaving tomorrow. Take some time. Relax." The healer, another Elf who had a B-something name I could only recall for thirty seconds and who had been nicknamed 'Bruce' in my head, chastised me as they had me bathe. Again. He spoke English fairly well, at least when he was focusing, but had a habit of slipping into his language when he was focusing on the healing rather than me.

I always felt bad that I'd have these Elves come into my life and they'd help, they'd feed me, help me dress, help me find myself when I got lost, but could never retain their names. It was complicated. I couldn't even remember my own name. Wendy, but Elf flavoured.

Luckily that piece of paper with the name written down came in handy for my name and I could occasionally refresh the name in my memory.

Between healers visiting me every few days, the maids visiting me morning and late in the evening, and time with the Fellowship between I was probably getting more than enough time using limbs. There were preparations to be made, discussions about paths we'd all take, maps to be poured over and rations to be prepared. Equipment was being repaired by Elves if a member of the Fellowship had it, the pony re-shod, high energy easily carried food prepared that wouldn't spoil anytime soon.

I heard a lot about it and a lot of these discussions went over my head. It was a bit of a headspin as it was to get to know them and their names. Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimili, Pippin, Merry, Frodo and Sam. And, of course, Gandalf, who always seemed to be absent. I supposed he had things of his own to plan.

There was Aragorn- the unwanted and unknown heir, rugged, maintained an almost-beard effortlessly, skin browned and tanned. Legolas. Who now seemed to switch between watching me, silently, and ignoring me entirely. I could never quite tell which he'd be. It wasn't that far from the behaviour of other Elves though and I wondered if they were all like that. Curious, but aloof, like cats.

Boromir, Captain of Gondor, on the other hand was like a dog. Yes, he seemed to have a temper, but after some days in his company it was clear he was also decent enough, practically charming to me, and seemed completely and utterly loyal to his city.

Gimli spent more time with his Dwarven kin than he did with us and that seemed to not bother anyone so I shrugged it off as ...well, I didn't know, there was some kind of tension there as well and no one seemed to think to explain it to me. The Dwarves and the Elves didn't seem all that friendly.

It was the Hobbits that made me feel a little more okay about all of this. They made me feel well and truly welcome in their huddles. It felt a little more down to earth to explore Rivendell with them, particularly Pippin and Merry, as Sam seemed a bit shy and Frodo nice but distracted. I figured that getting to know them would help if I was going to be their 'sitter'. They were fierce though. Funny, mischievous, but they loved to smack swords at targets with unabashed fury and would encourage me to join in.

By the time the last feast came around I was in possession of new boots, these absurdly lightweight and tough things that took a few days to get used to but felt damn good, several changes of clothing, a bedroll, and various goodies. On top of that I'd been given charge of various herbs, tinctures, ointments and bandages, with a crash course in healing, stitching, wrapping and fever breaking.

On top of that I had another crash course in 'Not dying when someone tries to jab you with the pointy end' with thanks to Boromir, who upon confirming his suspicion that I probably didn't know a lot about swords, made it his personal mission (and excuse to show off) to fill me in on the best ways to Not Die. Highly recommended. Not dying. I took those lessons to heart as much as possible for obvious reasons. The Hobbits all joined in these lessons and we'd end up totally bruised, sweaty, and _ravenous_.

Finally the Last Feast was upon us and I, with all the things packed, was dressed in the last gown they'd stuff me into. Green and silver, with just touches of detail at sleeves and waist, it was lovely and obviously altered to fit my larger and curvier body from a smaller fit.

We'd been so busy for days that it was only then, when I was looking at my own reflection, it struck me that tomorrow I would not be here.

There it was. That new friend- panic. The desire to crawl into that soft bed and hide. Oh god. What was I doing. What was I _doing_!

I wasn't sure I wanted to go to the feast after all but I was expected.

"I know where I'm going tomorrow." I muttered. "Seriously. I know. This time tomorrow I'll be in the wilderness."

Did that help?

No.

It made me feel worse.

I closed my eyes. Squeezed my hands. There was a map in my pack. I would insist on being shown, every step of the way, wherever we were. I'd know where we were. I'd trace the path on the map. If I needed to turn around I would. If I didn't go then that was okay. I mean, okay, no one had TOLD me that. But I was calling it right here and fucking now. If I reached that point where I couldn't cope then I was turning around and find a way to make it up to Lord Elrond. Learn to cook in his kitchens or something.

If I couldn't go tomorrow then I wouldn't go. I'd be fine. It was fine.

"Wendy?"

I was expecting Legolas for some reason and instead opened my eyes to Aragorn.

"Are you well?"

"I'm just … nervous. Telling myself that I can turn around and go back." I admitted. Then quickly I added, "I don't think I'll do it, I mean, but it … helps. To say it."

"You can." Aragorn's concern melted into a gentle smile. "We're sworn to follow our task through, as the Fellowship, but you come of your own free will. If you need to leave then no one will stop you."

They might feel let down though. That was a _horrible_ thought as well.

Then again, I reminded myself, I wasn't exactly a warrior. Or a healer. Or anything of use, as far as I could tell, and generally that could make me more of a liability if I stayed. Or went.

Shit.

"If I become a burden to your group I won't stay." I muttered. "If I can't ...help."

"There's always some way to be helpful. There's more to this than the danger." Aragorn reached out to pat my shoulder, stepping closer, glancing behind me to the goodies prepared near the bed. "Gandalf often knows what he's talking about."

I had to take his word for it.

"Should we go?"

"If you're ready. Otherwise we can stay here."

"All right. Just... then... just a moment longer." I had to sit down. The stomach was starting to tighten and I needed air.

I leaned against the window and breathed in deeply. Shut my eyes. Repeated the words over and over. I had choice. I was free to decide. It was going to be okay. Wizard wanted me there. Aragorn was right. There were things that I could do that _didn't_ involve fighting. And I could leave at any time.

Aragorn seemed content to stand there, eyes on the distance, patiently waiting as I gathered myself together. He was humming. Gentle, under his breath, barely audible over the distant songs and laughter.

Finally I was ready. I rose to my feet, slowly, stretched, plucked at the skirt that had bunched around my soft waist and straightened my back. Without a word between us we started together towards the feast, Aragorn's hand on my back, and I decided I could probably like this silent man.

Just like the first feast this feast was spectacular with lilac covered tables groaning under plate and platter of fruit, bread, cheese ( and to one corner where the Dwarves seemed to be concentrated in, roasted pig) and crowds of Elves fluttering around as light on their feet as the moths that fluttered around each lantern. Creepers and flowers created long shadows between the warm flickering lights. Music came from the forests from unseen harps and voices into the open grassy space. People danced, swayed, drank, reclined on the grass or on benches, the meat, ale and wine already flowing freely. Some tables were designed to be sat at- including ours where several of the Fellowship already sat. Boromir sat alone with his drink and picking at a mostly still full plate, candles lit his shaven face, Legolas speaking to a pair of Elves standing at his side, and Frodo sat alone.

The other three Hobbits were flying between tables, plates balanced, gathering anything that looked to be interesting. How they could eat tonight I didn't know. I felt nervous. Sam was quick to rejoin Frodo and shove a plate in his direction.

I breathed in the intoxicating smell of musky forest, flowers, food, water, grass and dirt. Still I felt uneasy. It took sitting down with the Hobbits and really looking to see why.

I was a stranger. I was so different to this world. It was so unearthly, so ethereal, these Elves were beings that almost seemed to glow with an inner light I couldn't quite place. Their dancing and voices were hypnotic, their feet didn't seem to touch the ground, and their eyes were deep pools of unfathomable depths. They saw us with such indifference whenever we just so happened to be in their line of sight- similar, I supposed, to how I might look at a tree within a forest without really looking at the tree itself as an individual.

It was better than being one of the Dwarves though. They were small, squat, firmly rooted to the earth, and whenever they moved or wherever they went there seemed to be a strange cold tension between them and the Elves. Elves seemed to flutter away, keeping distance between them and the Dwarves, and the Dwarves had the strangest expression of barely concealed mistrust whenever they had to talk or pass an Elf.

"Hey. Pippin. Do Elves and Dwarves hate each other?" I whispered to Pippin.

Immediantly I was looked at. Not by everyone, no, but several Elves turned and looked directly at me with a sudden unsettling focus. The Elves had heard me. Just how sensitive was their hearing? I'd barely made a sound.

I flushed. Deep. Embarrassed beyond belief. I wondered if they'd overheard anything else I'd been saying over the time I'd been here. Some of it? All of it? Yet they didn't seem offended. Within moments we were back to being the background noise to their feast.

"I don't know. Why aren't you eating?" Pippin shrugged. Focus was on his food. His drink swigged with enthusiastic abandon between mouthfuls. "Itsdelishiss."

"We won't be able to eat like this from tomorrow. You should get as much as you can." Merry agreed.

"Are we supposed to be eating yet?" Frodo spoke up. He picked at the plate. "No one else is."

Now that he mentioned it- no, no one else was. Drinking? Yes.

"They're waiting on the Lord Elrond, Pip." Merry replied from his other side. He'd leaned back in his chair to see me and was still staring, as openly at me as he'd stared at the Elves. "Definitely a woman. It was hard to tell before."

"Yes." Pippin agreed. His eyes were back on the crowds. Even as he asked me, "Should we not eat?" he continued to eat, unconcerned, but he did glance in my direction.

"You've already started. I suppose it won't matter that you keep going." I wasn't really an authority on Elf etiquette but … well, _whatever_ , the Hobbits were already into it. So were the Dwarves. I wasn't too hungry and I decided I'd just wait and see. It wasn't really clear if we were supposed to wait or not.

Aragorn was closeby and didn't seem concerned. He was leaning back in his seat, a glass in hand, in deep and quiet conversation with a male blond Elf in their own tongue.

It was only after a few minutes of really taking in the sight that I noticed a fifth Hobbit, one I'd not seen before tonight, half asleep beside the wizard.

"Who's that?"

"Bilbo. He's Frodo's cousin, once removed on his mother's side, went adventuring with the Dwarves."

I stared at him and to my shock, the moment he made eye contact with me, he was wide awake and straightening up waving at me. Had we met before? He leaned to Gandalf, speaking to him and gesturing at me, only for Gandalf to shake his head and lean close.

"Have I met him?"

"I don't think so?" Merry shrugged. "Have you?"

I didn't think so.

Bilbo's face fell as Gandalf spoke in his ear. He glanced away.

"Wenduin?" A voice asked, from my previously empty side, and I jumped to see Legolas sitting down with as much grace as any Elf here, maybe more so. Prince Legolas? Should I call him that?

"Hi, um... Your highness?" I offered, and his lips twitched at that. "Prince? My Lord?"

"Just Legolas, informally. Which is what this is." His eyes swept over the amazing sight. He didn't seem to be as tense as he usually was.

Was it? It didn't seem like an informal thing. It felt about as formal as these things came with long gowns, fancy tunics and food all over the place. "What is formal for Elves?"

"There would be only Elves. It would be very different." Another smile, amusement reaching his eyes, and he reached out for the goblet. Almost instantly someone was there to fill it. He paused a long time, gazing out, voice growing soft. "It would be impossible to describe. Perhaps there will be a time I'll show you."

The tone made me flustered, somehow, and I shifted on the seat. It had suddenly grown warm. I reached for the glass and watched as an Elf was instantly there with a jug to fill it for me. It was at least a safer conversation so I inhaled it slowly. Wine? It smelt ...odd. A quick sip of the stuff, the bitter rank stuff, and I was lowering it fast away from my face. Oh heck no. "What's this?"

Legolas took it from me, fingers brushing over mine, flustering me more. He sipped and frowned. Put it down quickly before me. "Ale. From Gondor."

"Ale?" That didn't sound super appealing, honestly, and I didn't reach out for it again. Water would have been nicer.

"You don't like ale?"

"I can't say I've ever had it. It smells … it doesn't smell like something I'd want to taste again." I wasn't sure how to say that nicely- particularly now I'd discovered Elves could hear everything I was saying- but no one seemed the slightest bit offended. I swore I saw the server's face quirk in a brief ghost of a smile out of the corner of my eye. "Sorry."

"I agree."

"Lord Elrond has probably asked his servants to serve drink customary to each race. Ale is, as far as I know, most likely for the race of men." Legolas sipped his own drink slowly, eyes shut, obvious pleasure on his face. I wanted what he was having. It looked great. "Although some men prefer mead or wine."

"Elves?"

"Lord Elrond seems to have brought me a favourite of my own kin from Mirkwood." He opened one eye to gaze at me. "Elves drink these things too, of course, but we also have our own drink for special occasion. Drink unsuitable for other races."

That _almost_ sounded like a challenge. There was a strange smile on his face when he said that, eyes planted in mine, like he was daring me to try it. The smile vanished so quickly though that I could have convinced myself that I'd imagined it. His light eyes bored into mine.

The warmth increased. We stared at each other. Unlike the other Elves and their unearthly distance, this was a different being, and I couldn't explain it.

We saw one another.

I felt drunk. Drunk on the eyes. Drunk and flustered on his eyes. I had to look away. I had to reach for that ale, as disgusting as it was, and sip it just because I needed something cold.

What the hell was going on with me.

"Has Lord Elrond offered any insight into your mystery?" Legolas seemed uneffected by it as he seemed able to talk.

It took me a moment. "No. I've got a name now-"

"Wendy."

The name hung there. It had weight. It had meaning. It was the first time it felt like my name, which was odd, and I nodded. Stared at the disgusting swirl of ale. "Yeah. Wendy. I don't really know much else. I don't even know what happened to my hand."

I lifted it to stare at it. It was half covered by the long sleeve. It was had to even look at. Two fingers missing. Yeah, there was stumps, and I could wriggle them, but I could feel the ghosts still there. Still bending.

"It will still work."

"I know." That wasn't the only reason I was bothered. I had been so badly injured. I was drowning. Why? What had happened? "It doesn't matter."

"It does." Legolas' voice was suddenly sharp. I stared at him. "It matters."

It did. It really did. I just felt ...overwhelmed right now. _Too much._ It was still too much to think about on top of tomorrow's big event. I went to take another sip and winced.

"Stop drinking that. It'll make you sick if you dislike it." Legolas didn't take it from me, despite his words, but he leaned forward. "I'll find you mead. It might be easier on you."

"I'm not weak."

To my surprise he actually laughed. I stared at him. Elves didn't show emotion. They refused, or were unable, shut off behind masks of perfection. Yet here this Elf was, beautiful, but human as well, his mask gone. Wait. Was he drunk? He'd been so grumpy for weeks and yet tonight he was...

Cheerful.

"No. You're not weak." He agreed. "Nor is mead. Yet I … I feel you'd find it more palatable."

He rose to his feet and was about to leave when a shadow crossed us.

"Elven captives often have their ears mutilated as an insult by the Orc-kind." Boromir's voice made me jump as he leaned over the table. "Yet you're no Elf."

"Do they?" I shuddered. Panic. Shit. What was an Orc? I tried to remember. Had I been attacked?

"Or worse." Boromir added. "Where are you from?"

"I don't know." How many times did I have to say this? Over and over. To myself, to the Hobbits, to Legolas, to Boromir, to _everyone_.

Legolas stood there, frozen, his task gone as he stared at Boromir. The mask was there. Any emotion was gone. Yet his lips pursed together and his eyebrows seemed to tense.

Boromir seemed to realize he'd started touching a sore spot and leaned back. "I- Sorry."

"No, it's okay, I just don't have any answers."

"I'll keep showing you how to defend yourself."

"Thanks." I really wanted to get drunker before I confessed to this very big problem. So I shrugged offhand and reached for the ale, only to find it and Legolas gone, both of them vanished in the few seconds I'd looked away.

"Ah, what am I doing." Boromir was around the table and beside me in two steps, laughing, holding his goblet out to a server and drinking his drink. The darkness in his face was gone suddenly as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "We're too serious tonight. Save these worries for the road!"

What a ...change. I blinked at him. He was handsome enough, I supposed, clearly he'd cleaned himself up.

"Its a long walk. I can learn more."

"Indeed! Come. Let's get some food so the drink doesn't down us." He was up on his feet, holding out a hand, and I let him lead me to the food.

By the time Legolas reappeared I was already into the food as well, as was Boromir, and Legolas dropped the drink at my side without a word before he melted into the sway of Elves in the dancing shadows of the forest.

I had to play a bit with the food and it was at least a good distraction from the strangeness of Legolas and Boromir. Did I like meat? Bread? Vegetables? I couldn't remember. With a day of only grazing on fruit I was starving and ready to find out.

The mead was delicious. Sweet. Honey. Alcoholic. It helped wash down food I didn't like, helped make room for food I did like, and it kept flowing now. No more ale for me. Legolas must have done something. Talked to someone.

Boromir was a big eater. The dark haired man and the elderly man were the two that seemed to barely eat at all. It wasn't long after I started that Legolas reappeared and sat beside me, his plate with fruit, cheese and vegetables, his calm demenor such a contrast to Boromir's loud outgoing nature. As hungry as I was, I was self concious again, aware that I was shovelling this food in like I was starving.

With the soft flabby bits on me I was clearly _not_ starving.

"Eat." Legolas reassured me, quiet, subtle. "You will need energy for what is to come. There can be never too much."

I needed to loose weight for what was to come, I suspected, but that wasn't the issue. He was probably right. Who knew what we'd be eating on the road. Berries? Dried meat?

Aragorn was gone, I noticed, his place empty. Boromir had already moved away to dance with Elves- or attempting to, they weren't the slightest bit interested, but the Hobbits were joyfully dancing in their bare feet on the grass around him, boisterous songs shouted to one another as they drank and danced.

It grew late, savoury turned into sweet foods, and I grew drunk, dizzy with drink, sleepy with food, leaning back in my chair watching without any desire to get up or join in. Guests vanished. The majority of the Fellowship remained but Gandalf and Aragorn both had left and not returned. I could have danced. I could have sung. Yet I was so content to just sit there, sleepy, laughing and clapping to their dancing as the Hobbits took their feet stomping word shouting mood to the tables instead, sending metal and silver goblets and plates flying.

Boromir reappeared and offered me a drink. It smelt different. I inhaled, blinked, and looked up at him.

"Whatisit?"

"Wine. Tis only wine. But from Gondor, sweeter, lighter, and I feel you would love it more than our ale."

I tried it and had to admit, it wasn't bad, a sweet fruity thing that only had the slightest bit of alcohol. By now I was so drunk that I had to admit I was starting to crave water again. This was a nice between. I almost split it as I put it down, Boromir's hand shooting out to catch it, but he almost toppled as well and it ended up getting knocked over by both our hands spilling the berry-pink wine all over the once magnificent piece of cloth.

"Ah shit."

"There were only meant to be nine in this brotherhood." Boromir barely seemed to care. His attention was entirely on me once again, eyes unfocused, face bright red, and he leaned in with an uncomfortable closeness. A really uncomfortable closeness. I felt totally fucking naked suddenly as his eyes bore into everything _but_ my eyes. "It is strange Lord Elrond allows you- such a _soft_ woman. What are you? Elf-kind? Born of man? Perhaps a little of both? Are you one of the wizards? Or there to serv-"

Before I could answer, someone else was there suddenly, a literal body coming between us and blocking him. I had to assume it was Aragorn from the back of the head but my sodden brain took a few seconds to make the connection between dark hair and the voice.

Boromir turned and vanished, stumbling a little, and I breathed out a breath I wasn't aware I was holding.

"Serve?" I muttered. Did he just say 'There to serve'. What was he thinking, I was sent along to give them wine when they were weary, cook their dinners? Maybe. Maybe he thought I was serving something __else__.

Suddenly I wanted to go after him and smack him. I should. Stupid ass man. I should chase him down and throw that weak wine all over his stupid blonde head. I stood up, swaying, rage starting to move limbs. I was gonna smash him with wine. Hell no. He did not suggest that.

"No, Wendy, listen not to Boromir- he has had much to drink." Aragorn's eyes were still on Boromir's back but he was grasping onto an arm as I stumbled past him. "No one questions the will of Lord Elrond nor your contribution to the Fellowship."

"Whatever reason I'm there, it's not to serve you lot." I shoved past. "I'm gonna tell him."

"No need, Wendy. There's no need. He's stupid with drink." Aragorn physically pushed me back into my seat and sat beside me, stubborn, before he cringed and stood up in a hurry. That spilt wine had started to dribble all over the seat. "Ah. His work?"

"Kind of. Mine and his." I admitted. Rage gave way to guilt. "Their pretty cloth."

"Wendy. Listen. If Boromir suggests that again, or even does anything to make you uncomfortable, you need but only call. We watch your back. Legolas will watch your back." Aragorn tried to shake the wine off him, wringing the top, but he paused to look at me. "Boromir is a proud man, however, and has honour enough. He will likely feel ashamed enough by tonight to hold his tongue. Most likely the drink and food loosens his mind a little."

"Sure." I agreed. "Suureee. I'm still gonna wreck him."

Later. When he least suspected it. Then he could see who I served. And it wasn't him. Oh man, I didn't know who I was, but at least I knew I was one _proud_ motherfucker.

"I came to bring you this." Aragorn found a safe seat and sat, but only after offering me a very large tankard of something herbal, and he still gingerly sat down as if expecting another booby trap. "It'll help with the hangover."

"Oh shit. Hangover. We're leaving tomorrow. Shit."

"Drink it. Now. It'll help."

I wasn't going to disobey. Cup in hand, nearly spilling it in a clumsy attempt to salute him in mockery of his tone, and then I was gagging on this beyond disgusting slop of bitter something. It was only the desire to show him up- he looked like he was waiting for me to fail- that I forced myself to drink it. All of it. I was suddenly very tired and over his shit. All their shit. The entire world felt fake all of a sudden. Maybe this was all a dream.

"I'll need to get a map." I muttered. Might be wise if I was wandering around this place. I yawned, tempted to crawl into bed, as I heard a voice respond. "Before tomorrow."

"Aye, and I'll find one for you. Do you need help finding your bed?"

I might have passed out here if I didn't desperately need to pee but the need to pee was strong and I didn't trust myself to not pee myself in my state. Would be worse if it was a dream because I hardly wanted to wake up in a wet bed. How embarrassing would that be! So I nodded and Aragorn assisted me to my feet.

Legolas appeared. He seemed a little red faced, a little flustered, his blonde hair dishevelled somewhat. Had he been with someone? I felt strange about it and I was too tired to think. There was a silent exchange between him and Aragorn.

"I've a ... _friend_... to meet tonight." Aragorn said softly. "Do you trust Legolas to take you back?"

"Of course."

Aragorn nodded and moved back to leave. Wet ass and all. Poor guy.

We watched him go. I felt an arm slip through mine, a steady shoulder pressing against mine, my wobbly legs glad for the extra balance help. I leaned on the Elf and shut my eyes a moment.

Whatever I'd just drunk... it was starting to clear the fog. Somewhat.

God I needed to pee though.

I let myself get led out of the courtyard and into the dimly lit paths, close to Legolas, leaning against his steady body for support on the steeper paths or steps.

"You asked earlier about Elves and Dwarves."

I blinked, foggy, trying to remember. Oh yes. The famous Elf hearing that I'd only just found out about. "Uh huh."

"Elves and Dwarfs have long had mistrust of each other. Many things have happened between us, as races." Legolas' voice was very soft, very low, and I had to strain to hear it. "There's much we cannot forget and much they cannot forget either."

"I think it takes two or three generations before war is forgotten so-" I wondered where I'd heard that. I couldn't remember. Did it matter? God. I needed to pee. He needed to stop rambling and just get me back to the room with that pot.

"Then we have a great many years to wait." Legolas said softly. "Many an age. Yet Dwarves seem to need more time than that as well. Perhaps this will always be a wound between us."

"Might be a human thing." I offered. He kind of seemed downed by that. Woops. I needed to be more upbeat. Cheerful. "Maybe you'll all be friends again soon."

"I feel they'll ever be as children to us, angry children, untrustworthy."

"Children?"

"All Men and Dwarves seem as children to Elves." Legolas paused, freezing, and so I had to as well. He gazed up into the stars. "Almost all Men and Dwarves. They're so short lived, so little time, and dead before they've impacted their world. Flowers that fade as fast as they blossom, living only to create more of their kind, as the world turns on. It seems as if I only blink and one generation of Man or Dwarf has faded only to be replaced by their grandchildren. You are the only one that I-"

"What?"

"That doesn't fade."

I was human. Right? I was aging. I was normal. I knew it, I felt it, and I was baffled by this Elf's sudden sorrow. His words made me shiver. It made him seem old, ancient, really removed from me, from the others, like he was something else. "How old are you?"

He shrugged, didn't answer, lost in the stars above us. I blinked up at him.

Did he know something about me?

"Did you know me? Before the accident?"

"No. But yes."

I stared at him. He seemed a little out of it. I blurted out, "Are you drunk?" and this seemed to get his attention.

"Maybe."

Funny Elf. He was so different to the others. So silent, contained, I wondered if he ever let loose. Maybe he was mistaking me with someone else. I shut my eyes, weary suddenly, leaning on him. God. I drank too much. I hoped he didn't start to crack jokes because I would seriously piss myself and be too drunk to care. "I am."

"Come on." Legolas took only two steps before his feet, his ever elegant feet, missed the path and found a pond. Being my support I naturally ended up stumbling in after him, barely staying upright, clutching hard to his arm. This almost upended him.

There it was. The drunk part that he was trying so hard to hide. The sombre mood was broken. I burst out laughing and he shushed me, grasping for my face, trying to quieten me down.

"You're drunk too. How much did you drink?" I laughed, poking him in the chest, and tried my best to scramble up.

"Elf wine is not like yours. We are ...not easily ..." It took a few attempts for him to climb out. "Yet I forgot myself tonight."

"I can see that."

His face grew redder in the lanterns. Legolas tried to lift me up, but his feet were slipping, and he almost fell on his ass. It was such a weird undignified sight for an Elf that I was sure I had to be dreaming.

Legolas sighed, flopped down, giving up on his dignity.

A group of Elves passed by, suddenly, and he vanished under my skirt. They giggled at me, as drunk as I apparently was, one of the women already naked as she skipped past, an Elf man chasing after her, laughing as she fled with a squeal. Elves weren't as fearful of showing pleasure. It was pretty obvious there. They sang, ran, skipped, tripped over each other, and just got up and continued it. It was nice to see their shiny polished thing vanish... now they just looked like a bunch of very beautiful teenagers. Flashes of bare skin made it clear they were undressing, or half undressed, or maybe some of them hadn't been dressed at all.

Still, I thought as I watched another trip over a tunic he'd stripped off and roll down a slope in his haste, they were very graceful fallers. Then I went bright red and tried to forget that I'd just seen an Elvish peepee flop around the Elf man's legs as he attempted to climb back up to his feet. And was that one of my maids, jumping on top of him, knocking him back down again? And how the hell did they still manage to look like glowing bloody alien ...humanoids, even when they were obviously drunk? I bet they puked sparkles and light. They were chanting joyfully as they vanished into the lantern lit trees, singing, the tone a mockery taunting tone without any meanness to it, and perhaps it was me they were mocking, perhaps it was each other, or all of the above.

It suddenly looked really fun to be an Elf.

"They knew I was there." Legolas groaned softly as he reemerged. "They could hear me."

"So?"

"Human, you've got only seventy years to be taunted and teased, but we have thousands of years and very long memories." He was so flustered, sitting there in the pond, this drunk elf barely holding their usual dignified self together.

"It's dark though. Anyone could be anywhere. You could be anyone. Any elf. But ...We might want to run if you don't want to be seen." I muttered, face burning, feeling Legolas emerge from under the soggy fabric. I tried to step, slippery ground nearly knocking me back down, Legolas arms around my legs the only thing really keeping me up. The world spun and I saw, or at least I assumed I did, the stars come closer to the world. Brighter. Shinier. "God, I shouldn't have drunk as much. The stars are getting brighter. I'm hallucinating."

This made him gaze up and slowly he rose to his feet with the assistance I offered. The stars seemed to take away the severeity of his mood and a soft serene smile lit up his flustered face as he gazed up to them. "Well, you said it was dark. The stars listen to us."

The two of us clutched to each other in the slippery mud. I was aware of three things. First, that his impassive face was gone, but also second- that he was very close. Third- I still needed to pee.

"Us?"

"Don't you hear them?"

Oh here he went, with the Elf thing, I shoved him. Legolas clutched hard at me as he swayed, the two of us standing calf deep in the pond, his gaze turned up to the stars. "Hey, Elfy boy, I ain't an elf."

Still I listened and heard many other things. There was a hush falling but there was from time to time still songs, laughter, rhyming verses eching through the trees, squeals of delight from time to time. Animals in the night. Rustling in bushes or trees. Owls, maybe, or some other kind of nocturnal creature.

Legolas muttered something in Elvish against me and then slowly, painstakingly, pulled himself out of the pond then offered a helping hand to me. I accepted. We found the path again and started forward.

"Why are you following me around?" I muttered.

"I am responsible for you. I found you. You found me." Legolas shuffled slowly for the edge of the path, dragging me behind, hands grasping for a tree that leaned nearby. He spoke to it as he leaned against it, eyes shut, relieved. "This tree is happy. It will support me. If I sleep here will you know your way?."

Tree? I stared at him, starlight all over him, and was mesmerised suddenly. Damn. He was beautiful. Like an alien. And even intoxicated he was perfection. I could have rumpled up those braids and found they'd bounce back into perfect position.

"You look like a al-alien." I muttered, jabbing him in the chest, shutting my eyes. "You do. Where's your stupid spaceship?"

"Al-i-en? What?" There was a mutter in his own language as he tried to peel his boots off. Maybe he wasn't kidding about sleeping here. The grass did look nice, I had to admit, but as we'd be stomping all over the damn world tomorrow and sleeping rough for who knew how long … I wasn't nearly as tempted.

"I don't speak... I don't speak your alien tongue."

"Tongue?"

Hands grasped my head, suddenly, and Legolas's tongue was offered. What could I say? There was a kiss, the tension exploding between us, and I grasped onto his arms for god knew how long as pleasure exploded throughout me. I could taste wine on his lips. It was orgasmic, brain exploding, and I needed to hang onto him just so I didn't topple over. The tree supported both of us.

I felt him shudder too and then we were pulling apart, seperating, the now cooler night too harsh a reality. Arms embraced me. Tight. It had been a warm night just moments ago but compared to how I felt ...

"Elves ..." Legolas breathed against my lips, dropping his head, shuddering as my fingertips grazed the tips of his ears. "Do not fear pleasure." He murmured in Elvish against my throat, teasing it, inhaling deep into his lungs.

There was one word, one word he kept repeating, and … I felt like it was a name.

It was only when I felt his fingers graze my ear, or lack of ear, that I felt some of my own common sense return. Crap. What the hell was I doing? I was seriously drunk. Taking advantage of a drunk alien was probably very bad karma. Also, that name he was saying, it was starting to bother me. It wasn't my name. So he was drunk, he was probably confused about who I was, and I really needed to pee anyway. I'd almost forgotten.

I shoved his arm down, trying to stand, and he blinked up at me, confused. Legolas stared at me for some time, slowly, like I was a stranger until he seemed to remember who I was. Then regret flooded his face.

That somehow just hurt. Crap. I mean, I suspected he'd forgotten who I was, but...

"My lady?" It was one of my maids. Clearly not drunk she stood there, refusing to look at Legolas, her attention entirely on me. Legolas sat there. He didn't even speak now. He just looked regretful. I swayed, shutting my eyes, feeling ashamed. Of myself, of my fat body everything. Crap. I must have looked like a whore.

"I will retire. I am sorry. I'm confused." Legolas muttered, standing slowly, and headed off into the darkness, hands on trees, boots abandoned beside the tree, vanishing in just seconds.

I was led back to the room, undressed, finally relieved the long suffering bladder and crawled into bed. The warm pleasurable glow of that embrace was gone now. It was just cold bed, cold sheets, and shame. Crap. Hello fellow Fellowship... here I was. The fat girl who apparently let anyone grope her after a glass of mead. Ten glasses. Twenty. Who knew.

Mead that I needed to vomit into the pot.

I dreamt of tongues, of alien Elf men, dangly elf men's bits, and that voice. Dying in order to be reborn. Over and over. I wasn't sure where I was anymore. Dead, alive, it felt the same right now. I did not sleep well that night.


End file.
